Chapter Fifteen #2
“Nothing too fancy but old and beautiful,” Kendra says.
“We leave in the afternoon,” Ricky says, emptying the rest of a bottle of champagne into his glass. “Lunch at the island’s best hamburger place, and then a trip on a sailboat.”
Kendra gazes at Jasper with real intensity.
She rests a hand lightly on his chest. “I hope you’ll come with us.
” Then she turns to Ricky and takes his arm.
“I need to introduce you to a few more people, then we’re done, I promise.
” Ricky follows her dutifully. Jasper and Oliver and I find a spot to sit by the pool.
Jasper settles into a pool chair next to mine and then he pops back up and goes in search of Kendra.
Through the glass doors of the house I watch him trail her for a lap around the large living room, while she introduces Ricky to one cluster of guests after another.
I stretch out on my lounge chair and eavesdrop on a small group of women. I’m trying to puzzle out their connection to one another, as they trade off spilling over with emotion in hushed tones. They don’t seem to know one another, I realize. They’re all just wasted.
Oliver clutches my arm. He looks like he’s seen a ghost and squeezes my fingers. A server in a short black jacket hands him a fresh glass of champagne. Oliver breathes hotly in my ear. “It’s Harrison For—or never mind. Nope. I thought it was.”
The wine we drank that afternoon has had no effect on me, as if somehow being around both Oliver and Jasper at the same time has kept me vigilant.
Deciding to get drunk, I make myself a large vodka tonic, and then I head up to the house to take a look around.
There’s a stunning painting above one of the fireplaces, a small, brightly colored abstract, but throughout the rest of the downstairs I find only a collection of large framed movie posters, nothing special.
I make my way back to the vivid canvas I first saw in the living room.
I feel like I should recognize the artist but don’t.
“It’s a Helen Fread,” Jasper says, suddenly at my side.
“She was in her eighties when she painted it.” We take it in together for a few moments, and then he wraps an arm around my waist and leads me into the next room.
Loud, cheerful music is playing from huge speakers in the corner, and several couples are dancing.
The woman with the blue scarf now has it doubled around her neck as she weaves drunkenly and unapologetically into Jasper.
He smiles and moves me gently out of her path, pulling me to him with a happy confidence.
“I love parties,” he says. It feels good to be close to him again.
Like remembering the best parts of a vacation.
We feel comfortable in each other’s arms. And I’m keenly aware of the envious eyes of other women. He will never not be admired.
“I like your husband,” Jasper says.
“He said the same about you.”
“It’s weird we get along so well.”
I smile but say nothing, swaying with him to the music.
“What is going on in that brain of yours?” Jasper asks. “Are you concocting a dangerous plan?”
“Maybe you’re the one with the plan.”
“Maybe Oliver’s the one with the plan.”
Oliver is dancing now, too, with the other party guests. Laughing, his head tilted to the starry sky like he is having genuine fun.
Jasper looks over my shoulder for Kendra. He has a small bruise on the left side of his chin.
I turn, too, and spot her being charming in a crowd. Oh, Jasper, I think. I can see he’s starting to suffer from Kendra’s neglect.
“Great fucking song,” Jasper says. I lean into him, letting myself imagine another time, another place, where I could raise my chin and meet his lips, kissing him softly. Jasper senses this and immediately looks for Oliver. “Where’s our friend?” he says, gesturing for Oliver to join us.
“You two lovebirds dance,” Jasper says, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
Oliver is generally a mushy drunk. Touchy and sentimental. But this time his shoulders are back, not caved in. He pulls me into him. His eyes dazzle. He feels so alive. As if the moment we kiss, we will combust and shatter.
“I liked watching you two dance,” Oliver says.
“Did you?” I rest the side of my face against his chest, breathing deeply.
After a sweetly sloppy slow dance, Oliver and I head outside to refresh our drinks and relax by the pool.
Oliver strikes up a conversation with a woman in a blue-flowered dress.
I settle into my chair cushion and briefly close my eyes.
An image of Jasper from the past, from the first night I felt I really knew him—working in the darkroom of that little house in Santa Fe—flashes through my thoughts.
I know this is happening because I was just dancing with him, because I’m now feeling close to him again, or remembering that feeling. It’s fleeting but nice.
“I like L.A.,” I hear Oliver telling the woman next to him. “There’s no preconceived idea of anyone. The billboards have pictures of people who have transformed, not balding accident attorneys like in Texas.”
Oliver turns and looks at me. “I have an idea. We should move out here,” he says. The sober tone makes me laugh.
“I’m so serious,” he says.
“This is the third time you’ve told me that tonight. Let’s see how we feel in the morning.”
“I’ve told you already?” Oliver turns back to the woman on his other side. “I haven’t convinced her yet,” he says.
“Will you go visit the bison while you’re here?” she asks us. “They roam wild. Started with fourteen bison brought here from a Texas ranch in the 1920s to be extras in a Hollywood movie, and they’ve been here ever since. Stuck on the island.”
—
The party rumbles on. At around one in the morning, one of the servers comes back around with tiny sandwiches.
“Are these tea sandwiches?” a tall woman in a terry cloth dress and flip-flops asks him.
“Focaccia squares,” says the waiter. “Oh, I wish it was pizza,” someone says.
Someone else jumps into the pool fully clothed, and nearby, a server is disrobing and about to join.
It’s late enough now that only the seriously drunk remain, most of them making out with each other.
I pass a dark corner and see that the woman in the flip-flops has pressed herself against someone and is nuzzling his neck. In another dark corner, I’m only slightly surprised to see Kendra with her arms wrapped around Ricky’s neck, kissing him passionately.
In a flash, I turn toward the spot I last saw Jasper, which takes me back through most of the house. There is no sign of him. It’s only when I’m almost at the front door that I spot him in the hallway.
“I think an Irish exit might be called for,” he says when I reach him. He has wrapped a long green scarf around his neck, and his face is pale.
We gather Oliver and head for the door. Once outside, we run down the long driveway as though someone were chasing us.
We head through residential streets back toward the center of town.
The night is warm. The moon is full and bright.
I take off my heels so I don’t fall behind.
We are all still letting loose in life, I find myself thinking.
Later in life than I would have guessed when I was young.
When I finally stop to catch my breath, I realize we are on the sand.
Alone. A small inlet, hidden from the rest of the island.
Oliver grins, still high on the party, and pulls me in for a kiss. I taste the champagne on his lips.
Jasper is sitting on a rock, watching us, the moonlight exposing his sharp jawline. “I should have my camera,” he says.
“Anyone?” Oliver offers us a sip out of a bottle of champagne.
“Did you swipe this?” I ask, surprised.
“Hey! Jasper stole a scarf!”
“I’ll give it back,” he says, leaning back and smiling up at the sky. “I swear.”
I take a long sip of champagne and feel the bubbles in my throat. Then I pass the bottle to Oliver, who passes it to Jasper. I walk to the water’s edge. “I want to swim,” I say.
“Careful,” Jasper says, but he’s grinning. “Watch out for sharks.”
“Really?”
“Great whites.”
I can’t tell if he’s serious, but the champagne tells me it’s fine either way. “I won’t go far.”
I lift my dress over my head and toss it onto the sand.
I feel young and strong. Like I could swim back to Malibu if I wanted.
And when I see how Jasper and Oliver are looking at me, I want to take more off.
I play with the thin strap of my bra, teasing.
Oliver exhales softly. I unclasp my bra and let it fall to the sand.
My breasts are exposed, the crisp air makes my nipples hard.
I suddenly miss Texas. The midsummer nights where the air feels like a warm hug.
I bend over and slide my underwear off so I’m completely naked in the moonlight. “Coming?” I ask them.
Without hesitating, Oliver unbuttons his shirt and rips off his jeans, following me into the ocean like he doesn’t want to miss out on the fun.
The shock of the cold water is like an ice bath.
I dive underwater and surface to find Oliver beside me.
His strong arms pull me into him. I can feel his excitement.
“How can you possibly be this sexy?” he says.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing my chest against his. “Keep me warm.” No one will know, I think to myself, if I lower my pelvis to meet his. No one will know.
“How’s the water?” Jasper calls.
“Come in and find out,” I call back.
Jasper shakes his head, bathed in moonlight, and starts to strip. His shoulders are broad and perfectly toned. As he strides toward us, his powerful arms swinging, Oliver turns to me and whispers. “What’s happening?”
“Does it matter?”
“No.”